Slow day . . .

Woke up this morning, still dark as usual. Thought that, with Neomom on days off, Sonwun not having school and Sontoo and I available as usual, it would be a perfect day for the family fall walk. But then I checked the weather forecast . . . high of 7, rain, 5-10mm. Sigh. Maybe we'll do it anyway!

More likely, it's probably a good day for Sequence and MarioKart. Maybe, if we're feelin' crazy, Snakes and Ladders!

But no. Later this same day, we decided we'd hop in the manly minivan and take a drive, see the scenery, enjoy the landscape . . . lasted about 15 minutes. Then the whining became louder than the radio, so we came home for some Sequence and MarioKart.

Good day nonetheless. Would have preferred the crunch of dry leaves beneath my feet, but I can't control the weather, no matter how hard I try.

I got nothin' else today. It's been a lazy one and I'm going to bed early to make the day complete.

Cheers!

A confession . . . or two

So, I have something else to blame on a brother . . . a new addiction.

It's one of those stupid Facebook games that I swore off more than a year ago, when I gave up Mafia Wars. But then he invited me to play Battle Pirates, I thought I'd take a quick look and now I just can't wait to expand my island, build more oil platforms, plunder the Draconians and collect my booty. Good lord, that's pathetic. And it's all JackSparrow's fault. That's his pirate name. Mine's CaptainCrunch. 

Pathetic.

So, I was confessing this to my wife this morning . . . excuse me, must go repair my fleet.

So yeah, we were talking about this game and how it was similar to an educational game back in high school in Geography class.

And that reminded me of an amusing little story, involving geography and high school. And I guess I should explain that I went to a Mennonite High School, though I am not Mennonite. That's a story for another time.

But this school had a dress code. Blue corduroy pants and shirts with no letters or numbers. The school had a lot of other silly little codes, but, again, that's a story for another time.

I forget if it was Grade 9 or Grade 10 Geography, but it was exam time. And somehow I got the impression that the dress code was a little relaxed for the exam hall. So, being the wild and crazy guy that I am, I wore my t-shirt with the number 32 on it. Crazy rebellious hellion.

Now, there was a prissy little teacher that had been dubbed "Sister Jim" by the students. Sister Jim didn't like me much. Not sure why. 

But Sister Jim took great pride and pleasure in "catching" me in my flagrant disregard for the rules of good behaviour. I wasn't too difficult to catch. I was just kinda standing there, waiting to go into the exam hall to write my geography final. But you'd think he'd captured Osama Bin Laden. Or, at the time I guess, John Hinckley Jr.

Anyhoo, he told me to stay put and pranced off to conference with another teacher or two . . . just a sec. Gotta go attack a Level 4 Draconian Cargo Ship. Pathetic.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Sister Jim.

So, apparently after the Nuremberg court met to decide my fate, it fell to Sister Jim to deliver the bad news. Which he did with a smug little smile on his face.

And it had been decided I would NOT be allowed to write my exam in the exam hall (gymnasium). Instead, I would have to write it, all alone, in one of the classrooms. I was marched down to an empty classroom, told to sit down, was handed my exam and I was left to write.

Now, I should point out that a major portion of this particular exam involved remembering where a lot of the world's countries were located. I was provided with a blank map showing only the shapes of the countries. I had to fill in the names. It was a part of the exam that I was dreading. I wasn't very good at meaningless memorization.

I looked at the blank sheet, sighed, shook my head and then looked up . . . at the gigantic map of the world, in front of me, on the classroom wall. It had all the names.

I did very well on that part of the exam.

Have a great Monday!

I win!

The goal is to win. Beyond that, there isn't much to the brotherly battle that has invaded my home.

It's a game the boys play a thousand times a day. From the moment they crawl out of bed, I can hear the game commence.

"I win!" one will shout. Some mumbling, some running, "I win."

It used to be a simple game. One of the boys would recognize a situation in which he had an extreme advantage, announce the game and, seconds later, announce his victory. "I win."

For example, at lunchtime, Sonwun would recognize the fact the he had only one bite of his PBJ left. He sees Sontoo has half a sandwich in front of him. He says "I'm gonna win lunch," gobbles the last of his sandwich and makes the all important declaration . . . say it with me, "I win!"

This, of course, followed Sontoo's recognition of his five-stride lead toward the lunch table. At which time he declared his impending victory in the race to his chair. "I win."

I'll be honest. This game gets a little old in a hurry. Everything is a race. And I do mean everything. Putting on coats, getting in the van, opening a door, closing a door, hugging mom, petting the cat, feeding the dog, changing into pyjamas . . . the list goes on.

And I, unwittingly, seem to have changed the rules a few days ago. It was at lunch, I think, after about 75 rounds of the game in the morning.

"Everything is not a competition," I told them. "Breakfast? It's not a competition. Peeing? It's not a competition. Sitting? It's not a competition."

I did not kill the game, I merely created an "out." When Sonwun declares his victory now, Sontoo immediately throws a flag. "It's not a competition," he says. 

"You only say that when you lose," Sonwun counters.

Minutes later, Sontoo wins the race to jump into a laundry basket. "I win."

"It's not a competition," Sonwun argues.

"You say that because you lost."

And on it goes.

So this morning, as I listened from my cozy, comfortable, early-morning, book-reading, coffee-drinking couch, I heard the latest evolution of "the game," about one second after I heard the first pair of little feet hit the floor upstairs.

"First one out of the room wins, IT'S A COMPETITION."

Panicked scrambling of two sets of little feet above my head. 

"I win."

See what Sonwun's done here? He eliminated the possibility of a penalty with an additional declaration. Sontoo has no recourse but to lose and suck it up. And wait for his turn.

I have two boys. I kind of expected this, but I thought it would hit a little later. I wasn't prepared for every movement, from morning to night, to be competitive. But it is.

For now, it's feeding the dog, finding a marble, putting on socks . . . It's not important what it is. What is important is winning.

Down the road, it will be board games, street hockey and bicycle races. Beyond, it will be jobs, girls, cars . . . life. It's competitive whether you like it or not. 

And like everything else, my job, I guess, is not eliminating the competitive spirit, but tempering it. Keeping it alive, keeping it positive and ensuring that lessons are learned in winning and in losing.

First one done his blog this morning wins! It's a competition! I win!

Have a great Tuesday.

A Matter of Perspective

To me, it was the most craptacular, run-down, unsightly, depressing excuse for a carnival I've ever seen.

To Sonwun and Sontoo, it was "the bestest thing ever!!"

It's all a matter of perspective.

Last night, we loaded up the mini-van o' fun and headed to the parking lot at the big mall in Thompson. The carnival was in town! Rides, games and the most unhealthy food too much money can buy! Wahooooo!

But it's about the kids, right? They haven't seen too many carnivals (thank goodness) so the lights, the rides and the cotton candy all came together in a sugar-fuelled evening of spectacular fun.

The boats, at least, looked like boats!

We started off small, with the Boat Ride. You know, a dozen little boats on a track that the young-uns sit in and pretend to steer while going in circles. They enjoyed it, and it only cost me three tickets per child ($5.10 in total).

Roller coaster fun!

And then it was the mini roller-coaster. Bigger fun, more tickets. ($6.80 total). They really liked that one. Sure, it was depressing to me. I mean, the little cars looked like they were made in metal shop at the high school, about 50 years ago. Not kidding. I mean, the carnivals I've been to in the past at least try to make the mini-coaster look like something . . . a dragon, clown cars . . . SOMETHING.



But these things were little metal boxes, powered by a visible electric motor, tethered by an electric cord to a power source in the middle of the circuit.

Did the boys care? Hell no! It was a ride, it went up and down, it went "fast" and it lasted long enough for the carny to enjoy a full cigarette. It was awesomeness incarnate.

The Swing! Sonwun said it was the most fun!

The sights! The sounds! The smells! We wandered about for a while, carefully dodging the puke piles on the pavement, that no one seemed too concerned about cleaning up. We stopped to watch as a carny splashed several buckets of water into the "Salt and Pepper Shaker" ride, to wash out the puke left by a rather green rider.

We bought a couple of slushies, some candy apples, a dozen mini donuts and a bag of cotton candy. The supper of champions!

All in all, the boys had a blast! And the smiles were more than worth the roughly $60 I dropped for this entertainment.

But all good things must come to an end. And so, still vibrating on the sugar-filled festivities, we headed back to the mini van o' fun . . . only to discover someone (not mentioning any names Neomom) had locked the keys inside.

No big deal, the boys had enough sugar on board to walk to Winnipeg. Home is much closer.

So we walked home and discovered we'd locked it up tight, necessitating a little break-and-enter: a perfect end to a night of fun in Thompson!

"The bestest thing ever!"

Don't Wake Daddy

So . . . writer's block day 5. Welcome.

It's 5:15 a.m. The coffee's brewing. A mix of espresso beans and French vanilla beans have been through the burr mill. Water is currently soaking through the heavily laden filter. The black juice of the gods is on its way.

Much better.

So, yesterday I took a beating at the hands of Sonwun. He won four out of five games of Don't Wake Daddy. It's a board game. And, hopefully, a subliminal message for the future.

For SAHDs and SAHMs with kids in the 3-5 year age group, I recommend this game. It involves colour recognition, number-recognition, counting and a spring-loaded "daddy" in bed.

The premise is that the kids must make it from their beds to the refrigerator for a snack without waking daddy. Along the way are obstacles, such as squawking parrots, screaming kitties, a television set and other noise-making, potential daddy-waking stumbling blocks. (These things don't actually make noise, by the way, they are just spots on the board.)

16 cards are dealt at the beginning of the game, each representing one of the obstacles. When you land on an obstacle, and have the matching card, no big deal. But if you don't, you must push the alarm clock button a number of times matching the spot on the board. After X number of clicks on the alarm clock, spring-loaded "daddy" wakes up and his sleeping cap goes flying. Sonwun loves that.

Anyway, good game if you've got kids in the right age group. I also like Candy Land for the same colour-recognition, and counting reasons.

Oh, and neither one requires batteries. Super bonus!

And, as much as Sonwun loves to play Wii tennis or Mario Kart, he is always up for a board game. Right or wrong, I'd rather see him playing board games. Don't know why, but I'd guess it's because, having grown up in the video-games-are-the-devil era, I was a little brainwashed.

Everything in moderation, right?

Anyhoo, it's Friday. Garbage day. Playgroup day. Neomom's last shift for this cycle.

I'm actually looking forward to Playgroup more and more these days. I'm getting to know the moms, they seem to have accepted my hairy, unshaven presence and will even engage in conversation when we're not chasing our toddlers.

I also need to return my books to the library, our Batman videos to Blockbuster and pick up a few things at the grocery store.

Happy Friday all. Enjoy the weekend!